Sanctorium
by MidnightFoxx
Summary: Daala/Pellaeon fic...because they would be the ultimate power couple.
1. Disappointing

**Author's Note:  
Greetings fellow Star Wars fan! I'm happy that you have found my work and I hope you will find this story as interesting as the one that's currently in my head. I have been a Star Wars fan my entire life and I especially enjoyed reading the Zahn and Anderson novels. The dog-eared pages were any Imperial parts. I found Daala and Pellaeon to be exceptional characters. In my heart-of-hearts I had hoped that they would get together at some point and finally find a little bit of sanctuary in their lives. Not only that, they would make a truly impressive pair. Yes, am fully cognizant that my particular series of events in this this does not follow the premise of the movies or books and I took some creative liberties. This story begins shortly after the end of ****_Darksaber_****. Now for the legal disclaimer: please don't sue me, etc., etc. I'm broke.**

He had seen countless skirmishes and battles. His years of dedicated service and constant training had prepared him for the unexpected. As a senior officer in the Imperial Navy, he had felt what it was like to hold the lives of others in his hands. Nothing though, had prepared him for this.

One of the earliest memories that Vice Admiral Gilad Pellaeon had was not a pleasant one and it had been the image that had been forever responsible for the actions and decisions he had taken in life. From six years old, the sight of the dying kalitan had been burned into his recollection of how cruel some could be. He had admired these creatures so much. He often wished he could escape the mundane routine of school to be free as the winds with them. They were strong, intelligent and they did as they pleased. He heard stories that only the privileged few had the ability to gain the trust of a kalitan – sometimes enough that the creature would permit that one person to sit on its back. Gilad was steadfast in his belief that no one ever should. However, there were some men who believed that submitting a kalitan to an existence of servitude was the ultimate expression of power and authority; to kill it was even more. He could recall in almost perfect detail the events that unfolded before him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he desperately tried to turn away.

"Look, boy!" his father demanded. The kalitan was a huge male, the biggest Gilad had ever seen. His antlers towered above him, eclipsing the sun. Gilad's father had taken the wounding shot. The once dignified leader of his herd now dragged his crippled back leg, struggling to stand as a trail of blood formed behind him. The creature trumpeted loudly in agony, ripping through the boy's entire being. Gilad's mother smiled; exceedingly proud of this accomplishment.

"Today is a good day, Gilad. It will be one that you will never forget."

She was right about that. The young boy could not understand why his parents were allowing the poor animal to suffer as it was. His father held out the long blaster.

"I taught you how to use this for a reason."

It dawned on the boy exactly what his father wanted him to do. Tears ran down as he shook his head.

"Shoot it." He growled.

Gilad shook his head again.

"Shoot it!" he yelled. Gilad froze. Exasperated, his father grabbed him from behind and forced the butt of the long blaster into his son's shoulder. He lined the sight up to the creature's heart.

"You're causing it misery through your weakness. Now, shoot." He growled coldly in his son's ear. Gilad turned his face away. Using his other hand, his father forced his son's cheek up against his completely ignoring how wet it was from his tears. His son needed to learn that this was the realities of life. To eat or be eaten; to live or to die. He tightly clasped his hand over his son's.

"You'll understand. Just not yet, I guess. That's disappointing." He whispered. And with that, he squeezed Gilad's finger on the trigger. The blaster fired. Startled, the young boy jumped back. The goliath of a beast let out a loud snort; a shower of blood emanating from his nostrils. He fell onto the ground with a loud thump; the soil turning crimson. Gilad peered mournfully in the kalitan's golden eyes as the life drained out of them.


	2. Your Grace

The remnants of the once glorious Galactic Empire came out of hyperspace to the last known location of the _Knight Hammer_. Much to his surprise, the fleet was met by ship that most recognized but had never actually seen.

"It's Rhys." Pallaeon remarked out loud.

Rhysland had been a long-standing ally of the Empire ever since its inception in fact. Apparently, the hereditary ruler, Wather Casterling, whom they called Sovereign, was a personal friend of Palpatine. Traditionally, the Rhys had been isolationists and had little to no involvement with the Republic. Their people had a deep hatred for the Jedi and the fact that they represented the power of the Republic had never sat well with the Rhys. A militaristic culture where each individual was trained to fight or support - they were always preparing for the day they would have to confront the Jedi horde. Palleaon understood that the Rhys had a different philosophy when it came to the concept of 'help'. They would offer it but if it was declined, they would leave it at that. It was considered an offence, unless in dire circumstances, to deny one's right to do something themselves. Perhaps they had heard Daala's distress signal. Yet, Rhysland was light years away from here.

"Sir," the comms officer called "The Sovereign is on board and he wishes to speak to you personally."

Palleaon frowned and swallowed hard. This did not bode well. If his commander was uninjured or alive, she would speak to him directly. No doubt, the Sovereign was to convey bad news. Pellaeon's last interaction with Wather Casterling was not that overly positive. Shortly after the Battle of Endor when Pellaeon ordered the fleet to retreat, Casterling had offered the Empire quarter and protection on Rhysland. Pellaeon denied it. There had been rumors that Casterling had offered Palpatine use of his entire fleet and his army, but that Vader had rejected the offer. After hearing that, Pellaeon had wondered how differently the outcome would have been if the Rhys had fought alongside them. Casterling must have died by now. Apparently, he did have two children, so Pellaeon assumed he would be speaking to one of them. What made him most uneasy was what would be said to him. He was preparing himself to hear the words that Daala was gone. Prior to departing to Yavin 4, it was not his enemies, the concept of death or even defeat that he feared – it was the fact that he ran the risk of losing her. Pellaeon had never been love before but he came to the assumption that was what he had for her. He had longed to show her that, to tell her that, and he had planned to do so, in several ways, after their victory. Pellaeon knew that he was not worthy of her. No man was, but at least he would try. Now, it appeared as though that opportunity was lost forever.

"I will take it in my quarters." Pellaeon stated struggling to keep his heart from crashing to the deck. He took a moment to gather himself. This would be one of the most difficult things he would ever have to do. Taking a deep breath, Pellaeon transferred the signal from the Rhys ship.

An elderly but regal man appeared on the screen. Although several years had passed, they both recognized one another.

"Vice Admiral Pellaeon, it's been some time."

"Sovereign." He said with a court nod.

"Your admiral was quite worried about you. She will be most pleased to know that you're alright."

Pellaeon exhaled. She was alive he couldn't have been more relieved.

"How is she?" his voice cracked slightly.

"Oh, you know how Nat can be. She takes defeat to the extreme. If there's one thing my daughter doesn't lack, it's pride."

A brief silence hung in the air as Pellaeon processed the information he just heard.

"Your daughter?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

The Sovereign tisked.

"This sounds like news to you," The Sovereign shook his head. "Do not take it personally, Vice Admiral. She wanted to keep that quiet in the beginning, but I figured by now, she would have at least told her second in command for logistical purposes at least."

"Yes, this would have been good information to know for logistical purposes." He replied. Pellaeon was not being sarcastic. Had he known that there was an entire extra fleet and army of millions at their disposal, he would have suggested to her to use it and avoid the mistakes of the past.

"Join her onboard. I'm sure there are things you wish to discuss," the Sovereign paused choosing his words carefully "And I want a debrief from you both."

"Yes, Sovereign." Pallaeon answered with a court nod.

As soon as the screen went dark, Pallaeon exhaled. He was a hive of emotions and he was fighting to control them. He collected himself, straightened his tunic and headed for the bridge. Concerned faces met him. He could not help but to crack a slight smile.

"The Admiral is alive and well," he announced. There were a few mumbles of relief. Palleaon turned to a commander who was the next highest rank on the ship.

"Bridge is yours. We'll be back."

Now onboard the Rhys ship, Pallaeon could hear his red-hot blood pounding in his ears. He could not recall if he had ever felt this much anticipation in his life. The fact that Daala was alive and in one piece was a gift. He was determined not to hold back any longer; not to hide from her what he had felt since they first met. He collected his flurry of thoughts as he stepped into the darkened ready room. Daala sat alone on a table staring out into the vastness of space. Daala always had a presence that could not be denied; a certain unfettering control. In that moment though, she looked so small; so lost. She was not the same as he had left her.

"Admiral." He breathed from behind her.

"It's good to hear your voice again, Gilad." She responded quietly. Daala expressed a truth in that. That baritone commanding voice of his reminded her of distant thunder that was reassuring and calming all at the same time. She had only called him by his first name a few times when they were alone and drinking, but it always sounded so sweet to him, especially now. He came in closer. He averted his eyes as if he was embarrassed to show her the happiness he felt.

"Vice Admiral, I can no longer put the lives of so many brave and noble troops in danger. I am not fit to lead," she paused "I am resigning my commission. The Empire is yours."

Pallaeon shook his head.

"You're born to lead. You're going to be Sovereign of Rhysland someday."

"My sister is far better suited for that as you are far better to command the Galactic Empire."

He could not understand why she had not trusted him enough to inform him of her pedigree, but she no doubt had her reasons. He trusted that they were valid, however, he still believed he was entitled to an explanation though this was not the time nor the place. Pallaeon could fully sense her complete insecurity though she should not have it. Although she had lost a significant battle – it was a battle – not the war.

"Natasi, you're still young and do not have much combat experience. And to be honest, I have lost more times than I have won," He sighed quietly. "We miscalculated. We misjudged. But now, we have another chance. We'll do what should have been done long ago – fight the Rebel alongside what is ultimately the best force in the galaxy."

Just when it looked like she was ready for her rebuttal, Pelleaon grabbed her from around her waist and pulled her up against him. No longer feeling hesitation, he kissed her passionately.

"I will not accept either, Your Grace." He whispered, reluctantly breaking it.

Daala had long suspected that Pallaeon was attracted to her – the lightest of touches, standing close when there was no need for him to, the way he longingly at her when he thought she was not paying attention. This was reminiscent of the thirteen years she has spent with her former second-in-command. As she had with Kratas, she wanted to avoid the truth that she already knew. She had loved Kratas too much and now, she loved Palleaon too much to jeopardize him further. Daala assumed to love her was dangerous and if she had any ounce of compassion in return, she could not reciprocate those feelings. She could not deny that she found Palleaon extremely tempting. Dignified, broad shouldered, confident, experienced – she suspected he would not disappoint her in any aspect.

She placed her hand behind his neck and rested her forehead against his.

"You don't want to love me, Gil."

"Then you should have warned me earlier."

She couldn't help but smile. This time, she kissed him.

Daala nuzzled him under his chin, breathing him in. For a moment, she lost all sense of pain and loss and grief.

"The things I'm going to do to you." He remarked. Palleaon could not believe it himself that he actually had to courage to say what he just had.

"Bold of you, Sir."

"I'll come see you or you come see me. Either way, it doesn't matter."

"Unfortunately, there are pressing matters to attend to first."

"Your orders, Admiral?" Palleaon asked.

"I think we both know."

The Imperial fleet was abuzz with relief. Rhysland would offer them some badly needed and seriously deserved rest and relaxation. It was the least Daala could do for her exhausted personnel.


	3. It Is What It Is, And It Was What It Was

Palleaon lazily traced along the valley between her last rib and hipbone while she blissfully slept. He loved how soft her skin was. He loved how perfectly she fit up against him. He could get used to this. He could get used to a lot more as well. He would do whatever she asked of him. He would protect her; he would fight for her; he would give his last breath for her. He could get used to being her partner and father of her children – if she would have him in such ways. He wanted a change from the constant hum and stress of battle. Taking quarter on Rhysland would allow them to lick their wounds, train, prepare and emerge stronger to fight the enemy. In the meantime, perhaps they could experience family life. Daala was next in line to become Soverign and she would need an heir. Come to think of it, her progeny would now stand to inherit both the Empire and Rhysland – the beginning of a new dynasty. Palleaon smiled to himself, relishing that he had made her climax quite quickly – twice in fact. Daala was frank in telling him afterwards that she had never experienced such a thing in her life. She had often expressed her respect for his wealth of knowledge as a commander and his overall intelligence. Maybe now she would have another purpose to keep him at her side. He had suspected quite some time ago that she had interest in him, but he could not quite figure out why Daala had not pursued her temptation. There had been a number of occasions during their private strategy meetings where he thought to suggest they both give in to what they wanted. Although Palleaon was a confident man, he was also cautious. Although he desired a bond with her, he also did not want to break it by being careless and too quick. He decided it was best take more of a subservient position and let her hold the cards. He wanted all of her – her whole heart as she had his. Daala was difficult to read. Although Palleaon knew that she trusted him, part of her always remained hidden by shadow. She had expressed to him her loyalty to the Empire but also how it had mistreated her. Other parts of her life seemed to still be off limits to him. Palleaon had recounted many a story of Thrawn, but she remained relatively quiet about the crew that she had spent twelve years of her life with. He assumed that their loss was difficult to speak of. Thrawn's loss had been traumatic – not only was he a brilliant commander but he was Palleaon's friend and he had been left struggling without him. He knew that Thrawn would have admired Daala's dedication and resourcefulness – in addition to her quick wit and sense of humor. If only they could have all fought together. They would have been more powerful and more deadly than Vader's Death Head fleet. It is what it is, and it was what it was. There was no sense dwelling in the could have been. Right now, all Palleaon was concerned with was the next few hours he was finally able to spend next to the woman he utterly adored.


End file.
